


Don't go back on your promise.

by LavenderScript



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Magical Boys, Magical Girls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderScript/pseuds/LavenderScript
Summary: If a soul has suffered enough and is noticed by the being known asKanra, they are given aPromise—  a weapon which allows them to protect themselves and destroy evil spirits.Absorbing evil spirits recharges thePromises, which isn’t too difficult, but the real threat seems to be the otherPromise-Holderswho often murder and steal thePromisesfrom one another.A MagicalGirlBoy AU featuring the Alts.
Relationships: Delic/Hibiya (Durarara!!), Hachimenroppi/Tsukishima (Durarara!!), Psyche/Tsugaru (Durarara!!), Psychedelic-420/Virus-138 (Durarara!!), Ruby no Yubiwa/Toudaimoto Kurashi, Sakuraya/Shitsuo (Durarara!!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Don't go back on your promise.

Tsukishima felt responsible for everything — everything bad, that is.

With his parents fighting over small things like buying brown rice instead of steamed rice, there wasn’t ever a quiet moment. Tsukishima knew their true frustrations lied in infidelity and work troubles, so they exploded over minor things in order to create a semblance of control. It made Tsukishima feel helpless because as much as he tried to listen– to suggest compromises– to help financially as a part-time mail carrier, he was always told to ‘shut up’ and that he was a ‘failure’.

That it was his fault his parents were unhappy.

Eventually, the verbal metamorphosed into the physical. Not wanting them to be violent with each other, he allowed them to take their frustrations on him. It hurt — somehow more emotionally than physically.

School wasn’t much better. Most of the high-schoolers were preoccupied with social image or with their studies. The former would bully Tsukishima to prove their superiority or demonstrate their sense of humor; the latter just didn’t care. His shyness made him an easy target — and his kindness made it so that he felt at fault. And even if he wasn’t at fault, he reasoned, it was better they focused on him than someone else– someone innocent.

But all the times they kicked him while he was curled up on the ground, all the times they told him to kill himself, all the times they made him cry himself to sleep … 

They added up. 

Tsukishima still believed in the goodness of people, but he wondered if he’d be able to spread happiness to others– if he’d be able to experience happiness himself. If he really was just a ‘waste of space’.

As Tsukishima was tending to his bruising eye, he noticed a notification on his phone. His phone was six years old — slow, with only a few working programs, but it served its purpose: to send and receive messages. However, he wasn’t expecting any messages and wondered if it were spam mail — or his parents wanting him to do some extra chores. 

It was a person called ‘Kanra’ instead. 

[ Kanra: I’ve selected you to make a Promise. With one, you’ll be able to change your sorrowful life and fulfill your desires. ]

Tsukishima read over the message twice before responding.

[ Tsuki: No thank you. ]

The response was immediate.

[ Kanra: Hahaha! You don’t get a choice. Your Promise should be delivered soon. Make sure to collect spirits to recharge it. Good luck, Tsukishima! ] 

After Tsukishima attempted to respond again, it said that the number was disconnected. Tsukishima felt an uneasiness twining around his lungs. Surely, this ‘Kanra’ couldn’t do anything bad to him, right? But how did this person know his name? And what did he mean by ‘delivered soon’? Did Kanra know his address? What even is a ‘Promise’?

The doorbell rang.

Tsukishima gulped before pocketing his phone. Was this just a prank from his classmates? Or did his parents upset some shady people?

After tip-toeing to the door and checking through peephole to see no-one on the other side, he opened the door slightly– then all the way.

A nondescript black box lay on the doorstep.

Tsukishima wondered if it were a dead animal (his classmates had left one in front of his house before). A bomb, maybe? Maggots? There was a chance it was a package for his parents, but the timing was too coincidental to not be suspicious.

The smell of cigarette smoke alerted him to the presence of his mom.

“What’s in the box?” _And can I sell it for money?_ she omitted, but seemed to imply. 

Before Tsukishima could answer, she snatched it from his hands and removed the lid.

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “You can have it, Tsuki.”

She handed it over to him, letting go of it before he had a good grip on it. It almost fell, but Tsukishima was able to catch it. Not caring any longer, his mother returned to her room. Tsukishima sighed in relief, grateful to not have endured a screaming fit, before peering inside the opened box.

In it, there was a white scarf. 

Tsukishima picked up the soft object, checking it for any bugs — the insect kind and the surveillance kind. After determining it to be safe, he returned to his own room and tried it on. It was comfortable and low-profile — his preferred style. Tsukishima’s reflection in his full-length mirror (cracked a bit in the corner) made him smile sadly. The scarf was too long and quite simple, but he liked it. It felt like a gift and he couldn’t help but appreciate it for what it was. The sadness came from his black-eye juxtaposed by the light accessory.

Maybe he would be made fun of for wearing it to school the next day, but he would be made fun of anyway, so he decided he would bring it with him. His heart felt a bit warm and fluffy from having something new– something for him, but he wondered if the scarf was delivered to the wrong address. The package didn’t have any labels, but maybe he could check the missing packages list at the post office he worked at.

As he grew tired, thoughts of happiness interlaced with sorrowful ones, swirling until he changed for bed and eventually fell asleep with his thin blankets and old pillow.

* * *

“We have a new student: Hachimenroppi Orihara. Please treat him well.”

“Yes, teacher.”

Tsukishima noticed the tired, uncaring expression of the new student. Hachimenroppi, as he was introduced, had dark black hair, pale skin, and ensorcelling red eyes. The features were unusual, but somehow enticed Tsukishima. Would this person also bully him? Or would he be one of the ones who ignored him?

“Is there anything you’d like to say to the class? A nickname? Where you’re from?”

“No,” Hachimenroppi responded, seemingly detached from the classroom — from the students, the introduction, and even reality itself. As if he were existing in a distant thought.

Tsukishima wondered if they could be friends. Although he understood that hope always lead to greater disappointment, Tsukishima wanted to have something to believe in. This new student was different– mysterious. Maybe Tsukishima’s life could change — if only for a little bit — and Hachimenroppi would talk with him. Ask him for a pencil, maybe. Or talk about the class– about notes– about the weather. Anything, just for a moment, before Hachimenroppi would inevitably avoid Tsukishima after learning of his poor reputation. 

Hachimenroppi would probably become popular. He was attractive and he looked rather intelligent. Tsukishma sighed, noting the distance that already existed between their social standings.

“You can take the seat next to Tsukishima in the back.”

Some people snickered. The teacher pretended not to notice. Hachimenroppi walked lazily to the assigned seat, tugging along his backpack, before settling into it with a slouch.

“Now then, let’s continue class.”

Tsukishima took notes as diligently as he always did, but he had to admit he was sneaking glances to his overly-relaxed seatmate. Hachimenroppi had shifted from a slouch to a recline, stretching his legs out and looking at the board tiredly. He wasn’t taking notes. Maybe he didn’t have a pencil?

Tsukishima mustered up courage he barely had, “D-do you need a pencil?”

Hachimenroppi looked over– up and down Tsukshima’s form, and then responded with a tight and somewhat hateful ‘no’.

Tsukishima shrinked back into himself, fidgeting with his new scarf.

The boy seated in front of Hachimenroppi began snickering.

“So you know a loser when you see one, Roppi?”

If Hachimenroppi was bothered by the nickname, he didn’t show such a reaction — nor did he care to respond to the boy. The boy turned around as some girls muttered about how Hachimenroppi’s eyes were ‘creepy’.

Tsukishima thought Hachimenroppi’s were beautiful, but he kept that to himself. He should’ve known his hope for a friend was stupid. He decided he wouldn’t bother Hachimenroppi anymore, as much as he wished for his friendship.

* * *

Class ended as soon as it began. And so did the next.

It was time for break — time which Tsukishima used to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, after he had finished his business, students– bullies were waiting for him outside of his stall. 

The usual began. It started with the taunts which Tsukishima had learned to ignore — and just as Tsukishima was waiting for the first hit, the bullies tripped over nothing. All of them, simultaneously.

Tsukishima blinked in surprise, but took the opportunity to exit the bathroom as the bullies were still muttering curses. The thought of returning with a First-Aid kit passed his mind, but maybe they would feel humiliated by the action. Maybe they would just continue with the quotidian slurs and punches. But he couldn’t just leave them there– hurt.

Tsukishima entered the nurse’s office and filled out the form to borrow a kit, but just as he reached for it, a hand appeared over it. His eyes trailed up the hand to find Hachimenroppi. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Tsukishima immediately said, scooting back to give Hachimenroppi space to take the First-Aid kit.

“Did you get hurt?”

Tsukishima blinked at the question in confused surprise.

“What…?”

“Why do you need the kit?”

“O-oh! Some p-people were hurt down– down the hall.”

Hachimenroppi looked at Tsukishima with a raised brow. Tsukishima fidgeted nervously with his scarf again; it was becoming a habit.

“The same people who gave you that black eye?”

Tsukishima looked around the office, not wanting to maintain eye-contact with such a piercing gaze. It was empty; the nurse probably was enjoying a snack somewhere else. Why was Hachimenroppi here? And why did he care about Tsukishima’s eye? Was he planning to make his other one swell up in bruises, too?

Tsukishima wanted to say it was an accident, but he was sure Hachimenroppi wouldn’t believe him. He didn’t think he could bring himself to lie to his new classmate, either.

“Y-yes, b-but it’s okay! T-they’re probably going through a lot of– of bad things.”

Tsukishima waited for Hachimenroppi to mock him for his stuttering — but he didn’t. Instead, he quietly observed the taller male. Tsukishima shifted under the gaze.

“Don’t justify the actions of abusers.” Hachimenroppi finally responded. “Violence is the last resort of the incompetent.”

“B-but…” Tsukishima didn’t consider them abusers. They were students, just like he was — and even if Tsukishima hadn’t seen them, they probably had redeeming qualities. They were friends with one another, right? There had to be a reason for their closeness. Maybe their common enemy in Tsukishima is what helped them bond.

“You’re taller and probably stronger than they are. Just hit them back. It’s self-defense.” Hachimenroppi stated bluntly with a shrug — at which Tsukishima started stuttering unintelligibly. Not only was he overwhelmed at the suggestion of him fighting back, but he was also surprised that Hachimenroppi was having a conversation with him.

“I want to be your friend,” Tsukishima let out, immediately regretting it. He wasn’t thinking. He knew Hachimenroppi would reject him and Tsukishima’s heart would hurt once again. Not daring to say another word, Tsukishima dropped his eyes to the floor.

All of a sudden, Tsukishima heard:

“How long can you hold your breath?”

Tsukishima looked up — and responded to the out-of-place inquiry, “U-um, a minute, I think?” And then he saw another person in the nurse’s office with them: a tall, blonde male in a blue kimono. The young man spoke:

“Forgive me, but I’ll need to take your Promises.” As he was approaching them— he suddenly stopped, unblinking, and Tsukishima felt Hachimenroppi’s hand lace around his wrist.

He couldn’t breathe.

Was he that surprised from the gesture? No, he just couldn’t intake oxygen. What was happening? He looked over at Hachimenroppi and Hachimenroppi rolled his eyes before dragging Tsukishima away from the nurse’s office a bit hurriedly. Neither of them were breathing. After about a minute and twenty seconds, they reached the roof of the school — where birds were frozen mid-flight and the clouds were unusually still.

Tsukishima could breathe again — and time returned to everything. Tsukishima gasped for air as Hachimenroppi released his wrist.

“You didn’t tell me you had a Promise.” 

“W-what?” Tsukishima was confused until he remembered the strange texts from Kanra. Was Hachimenroppi involved with Kanra? Were they the same person? Who was that man in the nurse’s office? And why did time seem to stop? Everything seemed like a paradox.

“Don’t play stupid. That guy came for our Promises. I need to know what yours does so we can use it to our advantage.”

“I-I don’t know!” Tsukishima felt tears of uncertainty and confusion welling up.

Hachimenroppi sighed, rubbing the area between his eyes. “Okay, you should’ve received a black box with an item in it. That item is called a Promise. My Promise is the Smartphone and its power is called ‘Stopwatch’. I can stop time with it, but that also stops oxygen from moving — hence why we couldn’t breathe. 

What was in your box?”

Tsukishima gripped his scarf, attempting to digest all of the information Hachimenroppi told him.

“Th-this scarf,” he admitted, choosing to place trust in the transfer student.

“Let me see it.”

Tsukishima handed it over.

Hachimenroppi examined it before finding some sort of insignia on one of its corners. “‘Wormhole’. So, teleportation. We need to figure out how to activate it.”

Before Hachimenroppi could continue, the man in the kimono returned. “You can stop time; that’s a useful Promise.” Hachimenroppi tried to reach for Tsukishima’s wrist, but was hit by a whip made of water. “My Promise is ‘Tsunami’.” Hachimenroppi was about to tap his smartphone, but paused when he saw them surrounded by a thick wall of water — or rather, a cylinder of it. 

The mysterious man introduced himself. “My name is Tsugaru. It’s nice to meet you. Unfortunately, I don’t think the Smartphone would continue to work if you passed through the water. And if it gets destroyed, you die. You can also try attacking me, but my water can restrain you. I could even drown you, if I so pleased. If you pause time to attack my Promise and try to escape, the water will fall and douse your phone. You could try to steal it, but you’ll find my grip is quite firm.” Tsugaru’s fingers tightened around a brown kiseru.

Tsukishima began trembling, not fully understanding the situation. Tsugaru was manipulating water as if he had access to magic. Hachimenroppi could stop time, too? The absurdity of the situation overwhelmed him, but, as he was looking into his rippling reflection in the water trap, he felt his scarf slightly warm. Before thinking it through, Tsukishima pushed Hachimenroppi and himself through the water wall —

— and they exited through the mirror in Tsukishima’s room. 

Tsukishima had fallen on top of Hachimenroppi with an ‘oof’, quickly removing himself with an apology. Hachimenroppi didn’t seem bothered. Looking around the room, the smaller male dusted himself off.

“So your power works through reflections.”

Tsukishima, still dazed, could only muster a noise of confirmation.

“The only reason I didn’t try to use my Smartphone is because I don’t think he was alone.”

Tsukishima tilted his head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

As Hachimenroppi was about to respond, each of them was hit by something.

“Surprise!” A pink male rolled out from under Tsukishima’s bed. He picked himself up rather cartoonishly. “I’m Psyche and I can’t wait to have your Promises! They seem like so much fun!”

Tsukishima was trapped inside of a bubble. Hachimenroppi was trapped inside another. They were pink — which matched the eyes and bubble-gun of the boy who introduced himself as ‘Psyche’.

Hachimenroppi tried using his Smartphone — at which Psyche giggled. “Don’t be silly, my bubbles nullify the powers of other Promises. You’re trapped for~ev~er. Or until I get bored.” Psyche shrugged with a wink while playfully sticking out his tongue.

Were these people targeting them just because of their Promises? If so, Tsukishima didn’t mind handing his over, but he could tell Hachimenroppi wasn’t going to part with his. 

“U-um,” Tsukishima began, but was cut off by Hachimenroppi.

“You’re working with Tsugaru.”

“You’re good at guessing games,” Psyche responded.

Hachimenroppi continued, “So you’re working with others, too. Someone who has a Promise that deals with information.”

Psyche giggled again — it was intimidating in a deranged way. “I won’t spoil the fun by giving away aa~all my secrets.”

Hachimenroppi grimaced, making Tsukishima feel uneasy. Did he not have a plan of how to escape? What should Tsukishima himself do? Why did they want their Promises? Why was Tsukishima even given one? His life continued to spiral into more unknowns– more conflicts– more fear. As Psyche clapped merrily to himself, Tsukishima grew even more anxious and frightened — more so for Hahimenroppi’s sake than his own. Could he even trust Hachimenroppi? They just met today; the same day he was given the Promise. This seemed like a nightmare he couldn’t escape.


End file.
